


The Nagaborn (And What If You Can’t Escape?)

by WishMoon (A_Wish_On_the_Moon)



Series: SofA Lite Exchange 2020 Gifts [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Aranea is The Cool Big Sis, Ardyn Might Have Miscalculated, Ask no questions, Chocobo MT Pack, Fluff and Humor, Gen, I Tell No Lies, M/M, MT Prompto Argentum, NagaMama, Noct is Leader of the MT Cult, Noct's Mom's Now a Marilith, Noctis' Life is Suffering, Poor Luna, Regis Has No Idea, Some angst, You Know What You Signed Up For, possible time travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28078545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Wish_On_the_Moon/pseuds/WishMoon
Summary: Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum finds his thread of fate twisted long before it is ever truly set in motion, and the King behind his glass castle walls learns a truth that is more lie than not, when it comes down to it. A kingdom falls as a monarchy rejoices, but, all things considered, everyone seems to think he got off easy.Well, at least, Prompto seems to think so; Noct still isn’t too sure about that one, to be honest.(Or: The lighthearted version of daemon bonding.)[ Feat: Aranea Highwind, Snake Mama, and Ardyn freaking Izunia. ]
Relationships: Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum, Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Series: SofA Lite Exchange 2020 Gifts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2085768
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41
Collections: SofA Lite





	The Nagaborn (And What If You Can’t Escape?)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mahokoyuki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mahokoyuki/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [Mahokoyuki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mahokoyuki/pseuds/Mahokoyuki) in the [sofa2020lite](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/sofa2020lite) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> I like all sorts of things but I’m not a fan of sad endings or major character deaths

⭑⁕⭑

.

When the daemon attacks, Noctis (doesn’t) survive.

.

… Or, well, that’s what they’ve been telling the world, anyhow. By _they_ , Noctis assumes he means Niflheim. He’s pretty sure no one else really wants him dead, but, well… it’s been a while, and he hasn’t really had the chance to _ask_ anyone else _outside_ of Niflheim, either. 

Fortunately, the blond boy with the nervous grin talks a lot — well, if you count the series of clicks and screeches and guttural growls _talking_ — so Noctis picks up more than he should, on a good day. 

A lot of it’s because Noctis has been forced to adapt to the weird laboratories and the even weirder monsters. The rest of it’s because the four-armed snake lady hadn’t exactly allowed _visitors_ , the first few weeks, and Noctis has been going stir-crazy shacking up next to the Lucian entourage’s killer. 

_(there’s red staining his palms and warmth bleeding bruises on his knees, and something blacker than the night that burns cold around his ankles and makes him want to_ **_scream_ ** _— !!)_

But, yeah. Apparently, Noctis is dead. 

He tries to insist he isn’t, but then the other blond kid — there’s a _lot_ of blond kids, Noctis notices, and all of them share the same face and the same weird tattoo on their wrists — started going on and on about something to do with the ego and a failure to thrive, and Noctis got lost long before he’d concluded with the assignment of ego death to one Noctis Lucis Caelum. 

The dragon lady’s the only one who doesn’t like going with the flow much, at all, but she’s still a hired mercenary. She simply raises a brow whenever Noctis and his gaggle of blonds pass her by, and pointedly ignores how, every time, there seems to be a new one added to the flock. 

⭑⁕⭑

“ _These are strange times coming up on us_ ,” Loqi complains, one afternoon of paperwork without the Chancellor’s ominous, omniscient presence.

Aranea smirks as she wipes at her blade and arches a brow, purposefully ignoring the two preteen clones trying to sneak up on him. _Strange times, indeed_.

⭑⁕⭑

“This unit doesn’t recall you from its database!” a very young and very loud voice exclaims. Noctis, cold and shivering and soaked in the grimy, oil-slick goo of daemons, gazes blankly through the curtain of his thick, greasy hair and doesn’t know if he should be surprised or not by what he sees.

Pale skin. Freckles. Hair the color of chocobo feathers and dried sunflower seeds. A big difference from all the tall, drab scientists, with their nameless faces and faceless silhouettes.

“Who…,” Noctis tries to rasp out, before he breaks out coughing. The boy doesn’t interrupt him, though, and Noctis manages to blurt out, “W-Who are you?!”

It’s a crackly, quiet exclamation, almost whisper-soft. Noct hasn’t had much chance to speak for a while now, and part of him’s worried he’s just imagining the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed kid in front of him.

Actually, scratch that. Noct is _certain_ he’s hallucinating, since the bushy tail is looking to be quite literal, thanks, and Noctis is pretty sure people don’t have tails outside of freaking _storybooks_.

The kid cocks his head to the side, confused, before bouncing closer and, ignoring Noctis’s own flinch backwards, starts threading their fingers into his hair. 

_Fast_ , Noctis thinks, but the scent of feathers, birdfeed, and sunshine is a bit more distracting.

“This unit is Unit No. 05953234 of the N-iP01357 series,” they explain, happily, before they’re plowing on through with their own questions.

“Does all of your batch have such dark follicles? And, wow, the skin suit is so pale and smooth; most troopers have freckles and scars, even though sunlight is dangerous for them! And, and, wow, you have a very different shade of eyes — #3C82A6, right? This unit hasn’t seen something like that before~!”

Noctis is still trying to wrap his head around what the heck the guy means with all this talk about batches and units, but the way he keeps prompting Noctis to speak while grabbing at his cheeks and moving his head around’s got him stumbling over his _own_ speech to answer. 

Or, well, try to answer. The repetitive movements of the boy’s hands lulls him into a calm he can’t remember, right now, and he probably nodded off way early into the one-sided conversation.

⭑⁕⭑

 _Not that the guy seemed to mind_ , Noctis huffs to himself, later, as he cradles his heavy head on his arms and listens to him ramble some more about the most mundane things. Apparently, people here don’t get out much, wherever _here_ is.

At least he brought some kind of dry, flaky bread to eat. Blond Boy said he’d seen one of the scientists eating it, earlier, and found it in the trash. “This unit figured it could provide sustenance; your chassis doesn’t look all that stable.”

Well, moldy, trash bread or not, Noctis is grateful. Between the giant, angry, four-armed snake lady who keeps trying to get him to chew on weak daemons and the unopened plastic packages that creepy chancellor dude keeps shoving through the vents when he thinks there’s no one looking, Noct hasn’t eaten anything even remotely filling for months, now. 

“I’m not going to remember all those numbers,” Noctis interrupts, in between ripping apart and chewing on the gross bites. The kid pauses, Noctis swallows, and then he turns to face him and adds, “You got a nickname I can call you, instead?”

The kid blinks, once. “... Nickname?”

Noctis flusters, waving the hand not holding the bread in a death-grip. “You know,” he tries, “Like, your name, but shorter. Or, something other people call you, when they don’t want to just list off your unit number, or whatever.”

The guy smiles. “This unit has no other designation.”

And, isn’t that just sad. The adults here must be stupid, if they haven’t gotten around to naming the kid, yet.

“Then, can I give you one?”

Noct feels more than sees the nod. “... Sure?”

“From now on, I’m gonna call you Prompto, okay?”

“Promp-to…?” he tests out the name.

Noctis nods.

“Yeah, Prompto.”

⭑⁕⭑

After Prompto becomes Prompto, and Prompto’s managed to convince the giant snake woman that he’ll watch Noct, honest, Noctis gets more chances to wander around the base.

“The scientists call it Zegnautus Keep,” Prompto points out, proudly, as he goes on to explain where all the rooms are. There’s the cafeteria (for the scientists), and the labs (also for the scientists), and the training room (surprisingly, not for the scientists). That one, Prompto clarifies, is where the units get tested on their strength, abilities, and reflexes.

“From this unit’s batch, _this_ unit is the fastest runner!”

Noctis quietly chuckles at that, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure you are, Prom.”

For the most part the scientists ignore them. Sure, there’s a few fearful or wary eyes that catch them on their way down the hall, but no one really thinks to stop them.

Well, no one except for the Head Scientist, who grumbles a lot about Noct ruining the ego death of his trooper, whatever that means, and the red-haired guy who Noctis still only knows as the Chancellor. And, even then, he doesn’t really stop Noct and Prom so much as he waves obnoxiously and adds some ominous words before leaving them alone. 

Prom thinks the man is being nice, for a given definition of the word, but Noct kind of just wants to kick him in the shin.

⭑⁕⭑

By the third tour of the base, Prompto’s batchmates are getting annoyed with Noct hogging all of Prom’s attention — “But you’re so much more interesting, Noctis?!” — and start popping into Noctis’s cell, unannounced, too.

To Noct’s credit, he didn’t think they were Prompto after the first five minutes of big-owl stares, but, still. He can’t believe he mistook _them_ for _Prompto_!

(For one, Prompto’s a lot more nervous and jumpy. For another, there is no way in _hell_ Prom could bulk up like that, okay?! Noctis blames his mistake firmly on the fact that these adults have crappy food, and he’s going to stick to that, no matter what.)

Still, by the end of that visit, and Prompto’s… friends (?) ganging up on him to poke at his arms and braid his hair and carry him around the base, Noctis finds himself with a gaggle of blond-headed kids who are _not_ Prompto, and Prompto, himself, to hang out with.

Noct tries to teach them cards, at first, but they’re not very good with patterns, which is also just sad. Running’s no good, considering how bad his back feels, and touring the base _again_ would be nauseating.

In the end, though, Noct sort of just ends up collapsing on top of his new, self-proclaimed guardian — and, really, it says a lot about his life that Noct considers the giant, angry snake lady who basically _annihilated_ the Lucian entourage his _guardian_ in this dumb place — and listens to the others talk about their latest explorations, objectives, and accomplishments.

This is also how the intern in charge of Prompto’s batch actually _finds_ Prompto’s batch: gathered around their most dangerous daemon, cross-legged and splayed across her long, serpentine tail, as they listen with rapt attention to Noct weaving together a (mostly) true story about the Six.

.

(It is also, unfortunately, when the intern learns that Prompto actually encouraged his batch to _name_ themselves, and decides that he is _not_ going to be the one to explain this fact to Dr. Besitihia.)

.

⭑⁕⭑

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy! I was *inspired* because of a few other fics, and wanted to explore a concept involving MT Prompto and all the other MT's that weren't so lucky. Throw in a (possibly) time-traveling Ardyn Izunia, a kidnapped Noctis, and Niflheim's base, and you get so, so many shenanigans.
> 
> Also, oof. Tenebrae is in danger, if Noct was never there with Regis, to begin with. Poor Luna. D:


End file.
